


Of a Different Feather

by Maximumrider



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Episode Prompto, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, MT Prompto, MT!Prompto, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maximumrider/pseuds/Maximumrider
Summary: Noctis' wings were black. The deep rich kind of black that glistened in the sunlight. Feathers perfectly aligned, perfectly groomed, free of any tears due to the luxury of professional care from the moment he was born.All of the Lucian kings had black wings. It not only represented their status as royalty, but their power.Prompto too, had black wings.They were just the wrong kind.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So pretty much everything is the same except everyone has wings. The color of your wings sorta represent your "status" I guess? There will be nothing sexual in the story. Romance may or may not be a thing, we'll see. Hope you enjoy!

Noctis' wings were black. The deep rich kind of black that glistened in the sunlight. Feathers perfectly aligned, perfectly groomed, free of any tears due to the luxury of professional care from the moment he was born.

All of the Lucian kings had black wings. It not only represented their status as royalty, but their power. 

Prompto too, had black wings.  
They were just the wrong kind. 

~

"Prompto, WAKE UP!" 

Prompto threw himself into a roll, just managing to dodge a particularly sharp claw from slitting his throat. 

Gladio came down on the daemon, his massive wings snapping out and flaring as he landed heavily on its shoulders, driving his sword into its skull. 

If Gladio's shout didn't get him moving, the truly intimidating sight of his wings unfurling to their full length sure did. 

"I'm up! I'm up!" Prompto scrambled back to his feet, already lining up his next shot. 

It was supposed to be a simple hunt; a sudden rise in reported sightings of goblins near the caves that were making people a little nervous. So they took the job, how hard could taking out a few goblins be?

These were definitely not goblins. 

Unless goblins were now massive scaly creatures with claws as sharp as knives, enough rows of teeth to make his head spin, and could vomit sticky black goo at the speed of a bullet. 

Fortunately, Ignis, as always, was quick to find a weakness, and the three avians took to the air as soon as they realized that the daemon had no way to reach them.  
Unfortunately, being the only grounded one, this left Prompto as the prime target for most of the attacks. 

Prompto threw himself side to side, just barely avoiding the disgusting black slime lobbed at him, and the quick swipe of claws. He raised his gun to try and take a shot before he was practically bending over backwards to avoid another goo projectile. He barely had any time to aim. 

Luckily, the others had his back, swooping in when the daemons get too close to him, while providing distractions when it seemed he was getting a little overwhelmed. 

Coincidentally, in that moment he feels a sudden buffet of air on the back of his neck, turning just in time to see Ignis, with one deft flap of his wings, rake his daggers up the spine of a daemon coming up from behind. And Just as quickly as Ignis was back in the air, Noctis was blinking in, finishing the job with his sword, and blinking back out to get into the air again, black wings carrying him out of the reach of the grounded daemons. 

They worked like a well oiled machine. They knew each other's every strength, as well as each other's every weakness. 

Due to Gladio's massive wingspan, he couldn't get off the ground very easily. He needed a bit of a running start. But once he was in the air, he could fly for hours, barely ever needing to flap his wings. 

Ignis' wings were great for stable flight, making minute changes mid air, making him as graceful as a dancer. But despite his gracefulness, he couldn't fly very fast. 

Unlike Ignis, Noctis' wings were quick. He could move at incredible speeds, making quick agile turns to avoid smashing into trees as he teleported, and perform unpredictable flips and spins to give him the upper hand in battle. However, what he made up for in speed, he lacked in endurance. After air battles or long flights, Noctis was often left winded from trying to stay in the air for so long. Ignis often chided him on doing too many unnecessary flips in battle, but the prince always waved it off. 

And Prompto, well...  
At first, the three had assumed he had no wings, or ones that didn't work. Although it was in no way a common occurrence- someone being born with a bare back, or wings with deformities that kept them grounded and unable to fly- it could happen. They were usually isolated from society, sometimes out of fear of them "tainting the gene pool." 

The others knew he had wings, they could see the way they pressed up against the bindings he wore when he got too excited or was startled, but they had never seen them. And Prompto never planned to let them see them.  
Whenever they asked about his wings, asking to see them, Prompto would quickly change the subject, or give some vague excuse. 

The first time Noctis asked why he never showed anyone his wings, Prompto merely said that they just didn't look right, so he didn't like having them out. He remembered so clearly the look on Noctis' face when he had said that. The realization (a false realization) twisting his face in a way that had Prompto scrambling to change the subject. 

He'd also been cornered a few times by Ignis, who warned him about the dangers of keeping his wings tied up all day. Prompto had given him a tense laugh, as he did whenever the subject of his wings were brought up, and fiddled with the strap of his bindings as he said,  
"How can you mess up wings that are already messed up?"  
After that, Ignis left him alone for a while, but in no way hid his looks of concern whenever Prompto winced and adjusted a strap. 

The closest anyone had actually ever gotten to seeing his wings was during training with Gladio. At this point, the three knew that Prompto didn't use his wings. They knew that he didn't fly, and probably couldn't fly due to some deformity. Despite this, it didn't stop Gladio from trying to convince him to use his wings, even if they couldn't get him off the ground. Gladio would demonstrate how, using his own wings, he could push enemies back if they came up from behind, or use them to distract opponents, but Prompto always refused. It made his wings press harder up against his back, till he thought they'd just disappear under his skin.  
_Pfft. If only._  
While he and Gladio trained, Gladio would constantly urge him to use his wings. One time, Gladio got close enough to grab a strap from underneath the fabric of his jacket and pull, snapping the worn leather immediately.  
Prompto had immediately panicked pulling his jacket as tightly as he could around himself in an attempt to keep his wings from folding out. He remembered Gladio taking a step towards him, determination set on his face, and himself scrambling back, his breathing quick as he gasped out repeatedly, like a mantra, "You can't see them, you can't."  
Prompto wasn't sure if Gladio had broken the strap on purpose, but he knew that Gladio never even went near his bindings ever again during training. 

 

By the time the last daemon turned to smoke, the four of them were caked with thick black goop, which Prompto could feel sliding down the back of his neck and to his wings.  
Eck... This was gonna take awhile to get out.  
The others very obviously shared his discomfort, and after they made sure all cuts and scrapes were taken care of, they hastily made their way back to camp, muttering about how the gil better be worth all the hassle. 

~

By the time they made it back to camp, the others were already picking uncomfortably at their wings, the goopy black slime having dried and turned crusty in the most uncomfortable way possible. 

Despite the lethargic atmosphere, Gladio immediately started up a fire with Prompto automatically gathering up some sticks to give him.  
Iggy pulled Noctis down in front of him, starting to run practiced fingers through his wings without a word.  
Gladio finished up the fire, then plopped down behind ignis, threading through his wings, and without another word, Prompto took a seat behind Gladio, closing off the line they had created. 

Even though all of the boy's wings were spectacular, Prompto had to admit, Gladio's wings were his favorite to groom. Each feather was huge, and so soft. And Gladio didn't mind if he accidentally tugged a little too hard, or rumpled a feather. But he was getting much better, considering the first time. It had been a disaster, since he hadn't known which feathers were more sensitive or delicate. He couldn't exactly use his own wings as reference.  
But Gladio had been a surprisingly patient test subject, as Iggy talked him through the process of grooming another person's wings. They had been surprised when they found out that he didn't know how, but didn't question it, going so far as to let him practice on the _King's shield_. They insisted that he learn, since grooming was one of the most important social activities among avians. 

After the events of the long day, a sort of drowsy calm settled over their little camp as Prompto ran his hands over each feather, carefully removing clumps of dried goo.  
Prompto bites down a wince as his wings involuntarily twitched against his straps, aching to be let out. To melt into relaxation along side his friends, and scrape the itchy dried tar off his own wings. 

He feels Gladio's wings jerk slightly in pain underneath him, and Prompto mutters a small, "Sorry," realizing he had pulled a little too hard. 

He finishes cleaning Gladio's wings just as Ignis is gently shaking Noctis awake, signaling he was done. Noctis hums, barely moving before he's shaken again, and stands up, releasing a yawn that quickly spreads through the others. 

Gladio offers him a hand, which Prompto takes and pulls himself up. He grinds his teeth in annoyance, feeling his wings jerk and shudder.  
Stupid useless ugly good for nothing wings that-

"Prompto?" 

He jumps a little when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to Noctis' face twisted in concern.

"You alright?" Noct says. "You look like you're in pain." 

Ignis pipes in before Prompto has the chance to respond, "Did you fail to tell us you hurt during the fight earlier?" 

"No no I'm good! Just uh..." Prompto says, tugging nervously at straps of his bindings digging into his shoulders, "back pain. Probably just pulled something. I should be fine by tomorrow." 

Iggy give him a wary look, the same look he always has when he can see right through Prompto's smile and insistence that it was just "back pain" when really it was, 'My wings are cramping and twitching from being tied up for too long and it _hurts._ ' 

He's had years to learn Noctis' mannerisms, and Prompto knows what he's about to suggest. The look that screams: just take off the bindings let your wings out _I want to see them._

But he never gets the chance to, because Gladio is calling them over after putting in the last stake for the tent, and Prompto is already making a beeline before Noct has the chance to open his mouth. 

His gaze flicks toward Ignis, his face guarded as always, but his hunched wings giving way to his worry. Ignis always got like this when any mention of his wings were brought up, but seemed to be getting increasingly more bothered. 

He sometimes considered showing them- imagined what it would be like to undo the clasps and let them fold out.  
Maybe they'd understand? Maybe they'd accept him?

But then the panic always kicks in. 

_No. They'd hate you. They'd kill you on the spot is what they'd do. They wouldn't run their hands along your wings and tell you they accept you. They'd be disgusted. Horrified._

_Even if he managed to get away, he'd still lose the three most important people in his life.  
And at that point, he may as well be dead._

So no. He wouldn't tell him. And he tells himself that as he calls out to them that he was getting an early night. And he continues to tell himself that as he feels Noct curl up next to him, and shortly after Ignis and Gladio next to Noct as he feigns sleep. 

Never. He could never tell them. Not if he wanted to lose them.

~

No more than ten minutes later, Prompto hears the other three's breathing even out. He waits a few minutes, and then a few more, then carefully picks his way out of the tent. He pauses when Noctis shifts, then continues to make his way out of the tent when he settles back down. 

Prompto sighs with relief once out of the tent, the cold night air calming his racing heart, and starts making his way towards a river he saw when passing by. 

While Prompto didn't have to worry about giant feathers getting dirty, he did still have to keep his wings clean. And having them tucked away all day, let alone bound down, was definitely not the healthiest thing for them, as Ignis had told him before.  
On certain occasions, usually of the business type, avians sometimes bound down their wings to keep them from interfering. They were usually very expressive, and it could even be considered unprofessional. However, they were usually never bound for more than a few hours.  
Prompto kept them bound up all day, everyday. 

The only sounds that stood out in that night were the crickets, soft rustles of small animals rushing through trees, and the involuntary clicking noise resonating from his throat as soon as he was out of earshot of the camp.  
He hated it. Avians could making a soft cooing sound, like a purr. But Prompto made this incessant clicking that was in no way soft nor was it nice to listen to.  
But with each click he made in the back of his throat, he could navigate the thick woods without the need of a flash light. He knew where everything was. He could probably go blind and still be perfectly fine. 

He hated it.

But he didn't deny its help as he swerved to the side to avoid a tree, or find a different route when he sensed a rather large daemon up ahead. He continued to navigate the woods until he finally came across the river. 

He spun in a slow circle, checking for any possible watching eyes, before sliding off his shirt. He undid the straps pinning his wings down to his back with ease, after years of doing this everyday.  
Years of hiding. 

When the straps finally fall to the ground, it takes everything in him not to let them fly out to their full wing span. His muscles tightened up from being bound all day, and if he just let them loose before stretching them out, he could damage them. He forces them to slowly unfurl, wincing at the tightness of his unused muscles. He rubs his hands along them, trying to get the blood flow going, grinding his teeth at the spasms of relief shuttering through them. He slides off his shorts and shoes, hugging himself against the goosebumps that rise as he wades into the water.

Although the water is freezing, he finds that he hardly cares. Each stretch of his wings makes him want to just melt with relief. Like this, he can understand how Noctis always manages to fall asleep when his wings were being groomed, and he wondered how Gladio and Ignis didn’t also. 

He lets his wings dip into the water, scrubbing away at the sweat and grime that built up on its leathery surface, and more recently, itchy dried black goo. 

He checks for any rips or tears, fur tickling his palms as he ran over the smooth surface of his wings. 

He wished he could have them out all the time. He wished he didn't have to hide. 

But instead he had bat wings.  
Hideous atrocities that could only be found on the backs of MT's. 

He flinches at the pain of his own hand clenching around the soft skin of his wing, and he has to convince himself to let go, or else he may damage them.  
He had considered just tearing them off before. He wouldn't have to bind them anymore. He wouldn't have to deal with the constant paranoia that the others would discover them. He wouldn't have to look at them, and be reminded that he didn't belong here. But he could never get himself to do it. Even when he held a knife up to the bone, twisting his neck so he could see what he was doing in the mirror, he couldn't do it. 

He was such a coward. 

He trudges out of the water, then flaps his wings a few times to get the water off of them. The one perk of not having feathers was not having to deal with wings that took forever to dry. He slides on his clothes again, pausing as he stares at his bindings.  
He does a couple test flaps, adrenaline building up inside him.

He really shouldn't. He wasn't normal. He wasn't supposed to do this.

He finds himself crouching despite himself, and with as much force his freezing legs can muster, he launches himself into the air.  
His heart thunders in his chest as he lets the air catch his wings. His wings work on auto pilot and he allows himself a little twirl. He knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this. It wasn't human. It was wrong. But he can't help himself, nor the smile that lights up his face.  
He lets himself dip dangerously close to the ground before pulling up again, the thrill making his stomach lurch to his throat as he made rounds in the small opening in the forest. . 

It was this, that kept him from cutting off his wings.  
The freedom that he felt when in the air.  
Freedom that he couldn't share with his friends, but at least he could enjoy a small slice of it in the blanket of the darkness. 

When he decides that it's starting to get late, he lands a bit roughly on the ground, making the mental note that he needs to work on his landings better, then collects his things. 

He starts redoing his straps as he walks, trying to ignore his wing's flinches of protest at being bound again. 

He had felt so free.  
But it was time to lock up the monster again. 

~

His presence, or lack of presence, luckily went unnoticed when he returns, and he slides under the covers next to Noctis, only prompting a small murmur from the prince. His feathers are hardly visible in the darkness, but once in awhile Prompto can feel one tickle his nose.

He doesn't mind though.  
It allows him imagine what it would be like, if his wings were covered in feathers too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta Da! So Prompto has bat wings, and the clicking he was making was like echolocation, like what bats do.  
> If you wanna know what type of wings they all have, here are some links to the birds their wings look like:
> 
> Igns: Eurasin Eagle-Owl (because i'm unoriginal)  
> https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/8/8f/Bubo_bubo_-British_Wildlife_Centre%2C_Surrey%2C_England-8a.jpg
> 
> Gladio: Condor maybe?  
> http://mediad.publicbroadcasting.net/p/knau/files/styles/x_large/public/201410/condor-flight.jpg
> 
> Noctis: P much just any bird with black wings. A Crow? a Raven? 
> 
> Please feel free to leave any suggestions, constructive criticism, spelling/grammar mistakes, etc, in the comments! I'm still a new writer so anything is appreciated. :)  
> The next chapter should be up soon! Maybe next three days or so. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before we start I just want to thank all of you SOOO much for all the kind words. I would not have been able to get this chapter done without you guys it really meant so much to me. Thank you guys so much, and I hope you enjoy (slightly late) chapter 2.

He thinks his heart nearly stops when he hears it. Clicking. 

"Guys, we gotta go." 

Gladio looks up from the pile of ash the daemon had disintegrated into, searching for the coeurl whiskers the old man who sent them on this hunt asked for. It had all been going fine until an Iron freaking Giant crashed the party. The sun had been setting, but they hadn't thought it was dark enough for one of those. The thick leaves must have provided enough cover for the daemon to make an appearance. Although they had been wildly unprepared, they handled it. But not without Noctis' leg suffering an injury, which was being tended to by Ignis.  
Concern spreads across Gladio's face when he sees Prompto, standing rigid as a board, head cocked to one side.  
"What was that Prom?" 

"MT's. A lot of them. South of here. We gotta go."

Normally, something like this would just be written off as Promto's paranoia; he was the most jumpy, most flighty one of the group. But after working together for as long as the four of them had, they knew to trust Prompto when he said that daemons, specifically MT's, were coming.  
They still didn't know how he always knew, but after the first few times his warnings had saved their asses, they decided not to question it.  
Usually they'd use the warning as an advantage so that they could get the drop on the MT's, but right now they were _not_ ready to get wrapped up in another fight. Not after barely scraping through the last one. 

They all seem to come to that conclusion simultaneously as Ignis wordlessly passes their last potion to Noctis, who downed it all in one quick swig, instantly pushing himself to his feet.  
They had been trying to avoid using it and save it for an emergency, then fix up Noctis's leg the non-magical old fashioned way, at least until they were able to restock.  
But right now they needed to run, and they wouldn't be able to do that if he could barely walk. 

The three silently fell behind Prompto, who uncharacteristically took up the front.  
In situations like this, they knew it was better to let him lead with his nearly perfect sense for where the enemy was. 

They jokingly called it a sixth sense, and Prompto would laugh along with them, but he knew it was just an artificially enhanced 5th sense.  
Prompto wasn't much of a bragger, but he was fully aware that his hearing was fantastic- which proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Trying to relax was nearly impossible. If they were taking a breather after a rough fight, every rustle of leaves made him want to bolt, every fiber screaming _daemons_ , even when he realized the culprit was an adorable chipmunk scuttling out of the bushes. If they were chilling in a haven, crackles from the fire would reverberate through his skull like gunshots. Even in the regalia, far off rumbles of engines made his blood run cold, always unsure if it was just a distant car, or an MT drop ship coming up behind them. 

If he focused hard enough, or if it was quiet enough, he could hear the heart beats of those around him.  
Sometimes, when they were all curled up inside their tent, and it was one of those nights where the nightmares were too vivid. Where memories of labs and needles and training eat at his insides until he can't bear the thought of sleeping, he'd listen to their heart beats. 

Gladio's heartbeat was like a war hammer. Slow, from years of training and running, and loud. So loud it sometimes felt it was shaking Prompto to his core. 

Ignis' was slightly faster than Gladio's. The soft rhythm sometimes speeding up slightly when one of them shifted in their sleep, always on constant alert in case he was needed. Somedays Ignis' heart rate didn't slow down until they were back in haven, and he was testing out a new recipe he had come up with that day. Prompto blamed it on all the coffee that Ignis loved. 

Noctis's heart was always constant. Strong and steady- until it wasn't.  
Some nights, like the weather, the beat would suddenly change. It would grow more and more rapid, his breath would come up short and Noctis’ fists would clench so tight his knuckles would turn white. Noct’s heart rate would grow and grow until he finally gasped awake, hands curled up in fists ready to fight, wide eyes frantically taking in the small tent, until he remembered where he was.  
Those nights happened more often after the King died.  
The first time, Prompto wasn't sure what to do when he heard the steady thumping next to him suddenly quadruple in speed. He hadn't said anything as Noct jerked upright, taking some of the blankets with him, before finally settling back down again, shaky breaths rattling through his lungs. But then it happened again. And then again.  
By the fourth time he heard the telltale sign of what Prompto had figured out was a nightmare, he found himself automatically running his fingers through the midnight feathers, through the soft fibers of Noct’s hair, careful not to tug at the small baby feathers that perfectly blended into his hair on the back of his neck. And to Prompto’s glee, the response was immediate; Noctis' rapidly increasing heart rate immediately stopping in its tracks, and slowly dwindled back down.  
"Prompto..." Noctis had said, voice less than a whisper. And that had been all he needed to say to let Prompto know he was okay. He knew where he was.  
He was safe, and Prompto would always be there to bring him back with a gentle hands threading through his wings.  
And Noctis hadn't jerked away from him, hadn't snapped his wings closed, so Prompto did it whenever he knew the prince was about to descend into whatever hell his anxiety wracked brain had constructed for him.  
After that night, when Noctis would gasp awake, he’d immediately wrap his arms around Prompto, holding him as if he was afraid he’d slip away, and Prompto would ignore the wetness spreading through the shoulder of his shirt.  
Between gasps, Noctis would whisper apologies for not being a good enough King, how he wasn't sure if he'd be able to save everyone.  
And Prompto would continue to hug him. He would stroke his feathers or his hair and whisper soft words until Noctis's heartbeat returned to normal and his breathing evened out, signaling his return to the world of dreams. Ignis' heart beat would follow shortly after, who always woke up the moment he heard something amiss.  
The next day Noctis would try to say sorry or thank you, but Promto always told him not to worry about it.  
And Noctis would pick himself up.  
Because he was strong.  
He fell down sometimes, but he always managed to stand steady again. 

Prompto wished he could be like that. 

Right now though, he needed to keep them safe. He couldn't worry about all the things he wasn't. He had to focus on the grinding clicking that echoed from all directions. 

He felt his own vocal cords tighten in response, wanting to click back at them, but with a harsh swallow he managed to hold himself back. 

He led them through the winding forest, making odd turns when he'd hear them coming from a different direction. He closed his eyes to focus, using the echoes of his own footsteps to let him know when he was about to run into a tree, or a rock. 

In moments like these, he was powerful. He could see everything, every rock, every leaf, all with his eyes closed. It was moments like these that made him feel strong. He could let his wings fly out, and with a simple flick out his guns, no one would be able to stop him. He could do anything he wanted. He wouldn't need to worry about being in constant fear of his wings being discovered. Of being exiled, or even executed for those _things_ hanging off his back. He wouldn't need to deal with the taunts he got everyday, being called a _dirt-dweller_ or a _crawler_ all because they thought he couldn't fly- that he was born with wings that didn't work.  
Well they would be in for a surprise when they found out his wings _did_ work. He could end all of it. 

Because they'd _fear_ him. 

Usually that thought made want to keel over with anxiety. But right now, he saw nothing wrong with it. he wanted it. He wanted their fear. 

Something inside him twists suddenly at the thought. It tells him that he does not want that. Their fear, is what he fears most. Their fear of him. 

And it's that thought that's enough to jolt him back to reality. Enough to make him realize what he was doing. 

Leading them straight to a batch of MT's. 

_"SHIT"_ Prompto hisses, making a sudden turn and dragging the other three down behind a large boulder beside him. 

His labored breathing fills his ears, but not from the run, which was was more than used to. No, it was from the horror he felt to his very core as he realized that he let it happen again. He let himself lose control. He let the MT lurking inside him, the monster, come out. 

The sudden closeness of the clicking MT's makes him hold his breath.  
"Promto where-"  
Prompto instinctively silences Gladio's question by slamming a hand over his mouth- something that usually would get his ass kicked across the continent. Right now though, Prompto could care less.  
He puts a finger up to his mouth, effectively hushing them, and points up just as a group of MT's started to march past their hiding spot. Noctis’ face twists with a look of disgust as the mechanical clicking fills the area.

Prompto clenches his fists, desperately willing his heart to stop thundering so loudly in his chest. 

He _knew_ how good their hearing was.  
He knew because he was just like them. 

He peeks ever so slightly over the edge, trying not to let his gaze fall on the at the horrifyingly familiar _things_ attached to their backs.

Those horrible black wings, so similar to Prompto's. The leathery bat wings, that Prompto looked at with the same disgust as he did with his own. 

He prayed to the six that they wouldn't hear all the sounds Prompto could hear so acutely- Noctis' thundering heart, or Gladio's ruffle of feathers as his wings tighten in preparation to act and protect. Ignis' slight, ever so slight, shift of weight. 

One MT pauses near their hiding spot, and Prompto feels something in his chest go tight as he presses himself harder against the rock, wishing he could disappear into it. 

He could hear it clicking. 

Clicking clicking clicking. 

Somewhat mechanical sounding, but Prompto knew it was trying to find them. Using the echoes it received back to analyze every inch of the area. Prompto needed to clench his jaw not to reflectively click back at it.

It seemed their luck hadn't run dry for the day when, after what felt like an eternity, the MT, deciding the area clear, drifted back into formation. The group straightened robotically, and marched onto the next clearing, clicks fading as they delved deeper into the forest. 

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, the others remaining obediently quiet as Prompto listened. He knows he probably looks ridiculous, his eyes locked on a random spot on the ground, not really seeing as he kept his head bent at an angle, body rigidly straight, with only his wings occasionally twitching against the fabric of his jacket to indicate that he wasn't a statue. He can feel their eyes on him, but he forces himself to focus. Listen for the soft clinking of metal armor he himself had trained in once. Ten minutes later, he's sure he hears all the groups of MT's exit the forest, the hundreds of flaps of leathery wings indicating their leave as they take off into the air to their dropships. He doesn't give them the signal until after twenty minutes he finally believes that the four of them were in the clear.

"Alright I think they're- AGH" Prompto shouts, jumping away from Gladio as a disgusting wet SOMETHING licks his palm. He clutches his hand in horror, just then realizing that he had his hand covering Gladio's mouth the entire time, and Gladio had just licked it. 

Gladio laughed as Prompto frantically wiped his hand on his jeans, a good natured smile across his face, "Yeah, you think I'm just as thrilled to have your nasty hands on my mouth?" Gladio says. 

Prompto lets out a whine, muttering comments of, _"Nasty, gross, completely disgusting,"_ as he searched for some water to clean his hand. 

Ignis seems to consider something for a moment, then says, with a bit of humor in his tone, "I have to side with Prompto on this one, that was unsanitary for the both of you." 

The playful bickering grows as they gather up their stuff. It was getting dark, and made it hard to see, but Prompto casually picked up the things the others had missed as they made their way towards the Regalia. 

Gladio and Ignis are still debating as they walk, the conversation having evolved into "A few germs never hurt anybody" and a quick response, "Yes that is true, but would you want a few germs of the some deadly disease in your system? Just a few? Surely they couldn't hurt?" 

Prompto is seriously considering pulling out a bucket of popcorn when he feels Noctis puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Nice work out there." Noctis says. 

"Eh, it was nothin." Prompto says, allowing himself a smile.  
Noctis rolls his eyes, but he smiles also. 

Ignis and Gladio seem to have put their argument on pause for the moment, and Ignis turns to look at Prompto, "I still haven't been able to figure how you do it though. It's a wonder how you're able to tell where the enemies are before we can even hear them," Ignis says, eyebrow raised at Prompto. “Is there some sort of sign that signals their arrival? If so, I’m sure we’d all love to know about it as well.”

Gladio is looking at him expectantly also. They had talked briefly about it before, but now it was starting to get a little weird, and they wanted answers. 

Prompto bites at his lower lip, casting a small glance in Ignis' direction before quickly returning his gaze back towards the ground. 

"Yeah uh... Just instinct I guess? Us 'common folk' gotta know when we're in too deep," He says as casually as he can, not daring to look in any of the others direction. “It's always been there.”

“Yeah,” says Noct, amusement laced in his tone. “Was definitely there when you picked that fight at the arcade.”

Prompto splutters indignantly, “Hey! That guy had it coming! He totally spilled that soda on my photos on purpose.”

He and Noctis laugh at the memory, recounting how red Prompto’s face had been when he had stood face to face with the perpetrator, before realizing that compared to him, Prompto looked like a spaghetti noodle with legs. 

"Yeah well, whatever it is you do, I'm just glad you're here."  
Noctis slings an arm around his shoulders and Prompto's wings twitch under his clothes and bindings. After the adrenaline of the day they just wanted to be let out, and that meant painful spasms. He can tell Noctis noticed, catching his worried glance towards his back in the corner of his eyes, but he luckily doesn't say anything about it. 

"Yeah... Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again thank you all so much for reading and for the kind comments you all left. The next chapter will be coming out soon, and will be more "plot" related I guess? I feel like the last two chapters have been sorta "backstory" heavy, so get ready for ANNGST :D. 
> 
> As always, please feel free to let me know of any suggestions, constructive criticisms, spelling mistakes, etc, Since i am still a new writer and am always looking to improve. 
> 
> Thanks again, the next chapter will be up soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO everyone. Sorry this chapter took so long! School has been crazy and honestly, this chapter was hard to write! But I could not have gotten it done without the amazing comments and positive feedback I've gotten for this story. Every time I hit a wall while writing this I'd read through your comments and it honestly just helped so much. Thank you all so much for your support.

When they first met "the man of no consequence," Prompto's chest had gone tight. It felt like he’d been hit by one of Noct’s lightning spells, every single nerve in his body frying all at once. His heart squeezed around his neck and lungs, like it was trying to choke him.  
He actually thought his wings might snap his bindings with how hard they were pressing up against the hard leather.  
The man hadn't noticed Prompto at first, but the moment his hungry gaze fell on him, something rose up inside him. He tried to reach for his gun, but it was as if the man’s stare was physically holding him back.  
Prompto knew who this man was. His eyes lurked in his memories of… _that_ place.

Even if Prompto wanted to say something, he didn't think he could. Those eyes brought out something ingrained deep inside him that forced him to duck his head and stand behind Gladio. Forced him to straighten his posture, stand at ready for orders even though every instinct screamed at him to run. 

Prompto wasn’t able to relax again even when the man stalked away, only the tips of dark blood red feathers visible as they dragged along the ground in his wake. Prompto was only able to breath again once they were on the road driving far away from the encounter. 

He never approached them again after that, so the need to tell the others of his identity was forgotten. And luckily for Prompto, when he did show up again, the mystery man took the pleasure to introduce himself from high in the sky. 

He had looked directly at Prompto as he said, “Ardyn Izunia. _Chancellor_ of Niflheim.”  
That was all the confirmation that Prompto needed to know that Ardyn knew exactly who... _What_ he was.

They hadn’t seen much of Ardyn after that, which Prompto wasn’t complaining about.  
But once in a while he’d feel his heart tighten around him and his nerves burn through him, even if there was seemingly no one there.

He got the same feeling when they spoke to the seemingly harmless old man, telling them about rumors of a royal tomb up in the mountains. He brushed it off however, he’d been getting the feeling much more often with no source for it.  
He probably should have considered that the feeling might be a warning. 

So they decided to check it out, it couldn't hurt and from what Ignis gathered from the other townspeople, the view was amazing. The car ride wasn’t long, but as they approached the towering mountain, Prompto’s heart sank. He’d been looking forward to get some cool shots, but he knew he couldn't hold them back. The hike up would take significantly longer than it would for them to just fly up without him.  
Up to this point, Prompto being unable to fly was surprisingly, not much of a problem. The prince could remain much more incognito driving in a car rather than flying through the skies where thousands could see him, especially with such a unique wing color such as his.  
The Lucian kings were the only reported Avians to have black wings.  
_Avians_ that is.

When MT’s started showing up, with their “cursed wings” as some called them, it was seen as Niffleheim mocking the kings of Lucis. The hatred for Niffleheim only grew over the years as did Prompto’s paranoia.  
During that time he became more withdrawn, more jumpy, and more protective of people coming close to his back. Gladio pretended not to notice when he started fighting more with his back to the wall.

So when they approached the base of the mountain, he insisted that they go on without him. It would be much faster for them to fly up, instead of trying to hike the whole way.  
However, he was quickly cut off by Noctis.

“Stuck with you this far haven't we? C’mon guys.” Noctis said, and with a jerk of his head, started the long trek up the mountain, both Ignis and Gladio following behind without question. The trip had required two breaks on the way up, but no one complained.

The townspeople weren't lying when they said the view was beautiful. Looking over the cliff side both made Prompto want to hurl but also stand there for hours just to make sure he took in every inch of the trees below and the wide expanse of the sky. He barely notices Iggy come up beside him, and soon Noctis and Gladio join to take in the view. A soft breeze caresses his cheek and a deep ache fills inside him. He greets the ache like an old friend, and not for the first time does he wish he could take to the sky. 

To just, fly.

He looks away from the edge to his friends, and to his surprise he finds he has every intention of telling them. Telling them about his wings, how he’s been hiding them for years, ever since he escaped from that horrible horrible training facility where he now knows he was tortured in and experimented on and treated more like a weapon than an actual human being.

He’s in the process of opening his mouth the reveal everything to them, but the impulse suddenly shatters when his eyes fall on Ignis beside him, or more specifically, his wings.  
They're a soft ivory beige color, with dark brown lines along his primary and secondary feathers. An owl, known for symbolising intelligence, grace, cleverness. They’re Iggy to the core.

Prompto’s wings are sharp, featherless, torn up in some places like an old curtain thrown in the trash. Unwanted. Uncared for. 

Ugly. 

And what does that say about Prompto’s core?  
About the scourge that, while mostly gone, still burns through his veins.  
About the ports that are melded into his back. The small rectangular plates of metal screwed in right under his collar bones and along the sides of his ribs.  
About the bar code, a constant reminder that he’s not a person, not really, as much as he pretends to be. 

So he keeps his mouth shut. He binds it closed just like he does his wings and throws away the key.  
He’s not _like_ them, and he has to remember that. 

He’s jolted out of his whirlwind of thoughts by a soft hand on his shoulder. His eyes shoot up to meet Iggy’s, and he’s hit with the sudden realization that he’s been staring at the other’s wings for much longer than intended, probably with a murderous expression on his face. 

But Iggy doesn't look scared, merely...sad. 

And suddenly Prompto feels himself being pulled into a hug, wrapped in arms that are much stronger than they look and shielded from the world in feathers that are soft and light and beautiful. And just for a moment, the hurricane inside his mind calms, and all that's left is a soothing breeze not unlike the one whisking past them now on the cliff side. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They follow the map provided to them by the old man, and along the way they’re able to find some berries that some guy in Lestallum requested ages ago. They’d been searching for the berries for _ages_ , and they were all starting to doubt they even existed, so they agree that even if the rumors of the royal arm are really just rumors, the trip was worth it. 

It was while they were wading through an ankle deep river that Prompto heard harsh buzzing. He had paused for a moment, trying to make sense of the new sound, and the suddenly unnatural silence of the birds. Upon further inspection, the entire forest around them had gone silent, as if the presence of this mechanical noise couldn’t coexist with nature itself.  
Then the sound turned grating, increasing in volume so suddenly it had Prompto grasping at his ears and almost slamming his knees into the rocks in the water if not for Gladio grabbing his arm to hold him up. He could barely hear his friends calling his name over the sound he recognized all too well.

“What the hell was that?” Prompto hears Noctis ask just barely over the ringing in his ears. So they must have heard it also, probably not to the ear-splitting degree he had however.

“Not sure,” Gladio says. “But Prompto dropped like a rock.”

Prompto recognized the sound, it was the sound of an MT turning on, but multiplied by a hundred. Maybe a thousand. 

He doesn’t really process the rest of their conversation as he tries to organize his own thoughts.  
How did this happen? There was no way these MT's had just happened to be here, especially all powered down? And they just _happen_ to all power up all at once as they walk through?

A cold shiver suddenly raced down his spine.  
Unless someone knew they'd be coming.  
Someone who knew about Prompto, and how he'd hear the MT's a mile away if they were already powered on.

"Trap," He finally responds, silencing his friends’ conversation. "They all just turned on, I don't know how they all even got up here I can't-"

Gladio spins Prompto towards him, leaning down to meet his eyes, hand already reaching for his sword, "How many?"

"Hundreds. We're going to be surrounded on all sides if we don't move."

"We should return to the cliff side and make our stand there so we need only to defend from one direction." Ignis says, looking at Noctis for the confirmation.

Instead of answering right away, Noctis look at Prompto. It’s like he’s searching for something, and Prompto feels like barbs are digging into his lungs when he sees something similar to suspicion in the prince’s eyes. But the feeling quickly goes away when Noctis gives a quick nod. 

And that's when the first few MT's spill out from the trees around them.

Noctis's eyes go narrow, and his wings flair out reflexively as he casts a fire spell, "GO!" He yells, drawing his hand back and launching it at the approaching MT's.  
Prompto doesn't see the spell but he feels the heat on his back, and he doesn't need to look back to know that the machines are toast. It didn't destroy all of them, not even close, but it bought them some time.  
They run alongside each other, Prompto occasionally turning to unload a few rounds into the face of a nearing MT.

“Kinda like that one episode on The Walking Dead, ay Noct?!” He yells as they run, stumbling over a log but quickly regaining his footing. 

He sees Noctis huff out a laugh, “Yeah? Who do you think will get turned first then!” 

“Iggy has a pretty big brain, they’ll probably-” He trips a bit over a tree root, “They'll probably go for him first!”

Iggy manages one of his signature eye rolls despite the situation, “Not unless you get caught on another tree root.” He says, amusement lacing his tone as he gracefully vaults himself over a large rock. 

“Aw! You wouldn’t come back for me?” 

He hears Gladio laugh in between labored breaths, “Wasn’t it you who hid my pants while I was washing off in the river?” He yells over the grinding MT’s behind them, easily slicing the head off one that jumps out at them from the side. “‘Dunno Iggy seems like a win win to me!” 

He can hear other MT's trying to get around the front of them, trying to trap them in, but they just barely manage to stay ahead of them. All the way to the cliff side where they first scaled the mountain.

He turns back the way they came with labored breath to see the first wave of MT's pouring out of the woods, and _shit_.  
There's so many.  
And Prompto can hear more making their way towards them.  
They're trapped, only empty air behind them and hundreds of killing machines in front of them.  
He wasn’t sure if they were going to get out of this alive.  
Except…

Prompto nearly facepalms himself.  
"Go."

Noctis looks at him, face twisting in confusion, "Prompto what?"

"Go!" Prompto says frantically to the three of them, pointing at the sky. "Fly out of here!"

They seem to take a second to process what he said, and Gladio's eyes suddenly fill with anger, "We're not leaving you."

Prompto's wings feel like they're breaking themselves in half from how much they're pushing up against his bindings but he could honestly care less. He wants to rip his hair out because why couldn’t they just see?  
Why couldn't they see that he wasn't worth it?  
He was nothing, a clone of hundreds.  
A monster.

"I'll be fine!" He shouts over the sound of oncoming MT's, "You need to go!"  
Time slows as he feels a hand on his shoulder and he looks up surprised at Noctis, whose suddenly looking much older. More like the powerful king everyone said he was. 

"Ever at your side." Noctis says.

Prompto looks up to Ignis and Gladio, who can’t possibly agree to this. But to his disbelief, they both nod in agreement.

_They would've left you in the dust if they knew what you are_ , his mind whispers traitorously, but instead he can only squeeze out a small, “Thank you.” Hoping it conveyed how much they meant to him and more. 

His eyes are blurry with tears, so he wipes them away as he turns to face the oncoming mob, taking a shaky breath as he pulls back the hammer on his gun with a solid _click_. 

His first shot goes right between two glowing red eyes.

The fight starts off well, and they’re able to fend off the first few waves without much trouble. But more waves continue to pour out of the trees, and the situation very quickly goes from manageable to chaotic. 

They stayed close to one another, being sure to watch each others backs and blind spots. Gladio deflected a bullet aiming right for Iggy’s skull into the gearwork of an MT with an ax, which caught fire and careened over the side of a cliff. Noctis was blinking all over the battlefield, ghost images flashing and disappearing just before he gets hit. But he never strayed too far from the group. When an MT got too close too Prompto for comfort, Iggy is there, daggers making quick work of the machine, and Prompto is able to fall back to a more appropriate distance for someone with a gun. 

Prompto feels himself entering a rhythm, the adrenaline forcing his training from the facility to rise to the surface. Pain flares up in his shoulder and he stumbles, but stays on his feet, unloading more bullets than necessary into the MT that nicked his shoulder. He forces the pain down and ignores the way his jacket was soaking with blood, like he was trained to do.

At some point in the blur of bullets and axes and swords, Prompto hears someone call his name from further in the hoard. Noctis? Did he teleport too far in? 

Prompto clears a path and dives deeper into the fray, calling Noctis’s name as he rolls to the side, a sword nearly piercing through his collarbone. He’s starting to regret his decision, and starts trying to fight back towards the group to get more help, but he can barely see them anymore. 

His heart suddenly squeezes around his throat and lungs before he feels a hand tap his shoulder. He nearly clocks them between the eyes before he sees wispy black hair. Relief floods through him, but there's a small part of him that’s acknowledging the weird look that Noctis was giving him. It was familiar, but not in a Noctis familiar way.  
_Why isn't he fighting?_

“Noct! What are you-”

“How long did you think you could fool us for?” Noctis says, his stone cold voice drowning out the battle whirling around him.

Time slows down as every cell inside Promoto’s body freezes solid, lungs collapsing as his heart crushes them in its grasp. He barely manages the choked sound that squeezes out of his throat before an MT comes up behind him and rakes a clawed hand down on his back.

He thinks he’s hears someone call his name, but he can’t tell over the white hot pain burning through his wings and back. It’s only due to the years of needing to keep his wings hidden that allows him to instinctually keep his injured wings pulled tightly against his back, even though most of the straps of his bindings were sliced right through.

He feels unnaturally cold hands suddenly grab his arm, causing him to hiss in pain as they jostle the injury on his shoulder, then another pair grab his leg, then many more grasp at different parts of his body and suddenly he’s being yanked away from the cliff side where he last saw his friends.

The world's a haze as he battles for consciousness over the pain bolting through his back. He decides to focus on the wetness he feels soaking his jacket instead. His eyes flutter open and he forces his eyes to focus. 

He hears Ignis and Gladio shouting, and he looks over to see them also being constrained by their own band of MT’s. Gladio manages to slam one on the ground that had the misfortune to grab his arm alone, but immediately five more take its place.  
Ignis is also struggling against his captors with not much luck, a dark red line of blood dripping down his forehead.

The MT’s seemed to have stopped attacking them, mostly focused on restraining them.  
What were they waiting for? Why weren't they just killing them outright?

_Wait._ Ice suddenly courses through his veins as he does a headcount. 

_Where’s Noctis?_

He whips his head up towards the cliffside, and he thinks he must have hit his head because there’s suddenly two Noctis’s, except one is lying unconscious on the ground while the other is standing menacingly above him.

“My my...” The standing Noctis says, a small lilt in his voice as he casts his hungry gaze at the three retainers. “Isn’t this quite a predicament?”

Prompto blinks and suddenly Noctis is no longer standing there, but the “man of no consequence”.

“ _Ardyn._ ” Gladio growls, his wings attempting to flair out against the MTs holding them down. “ _What._ Do you _want._ ”

Ardyn laughs in a way that makes it feel like bugs are crawling through his ears.

“Oh, just to help the “Prince of Light” find his way.” He says. He bends down casually to tangle his fingers in Noct’s hair, and lifts him up as easily as one may pick up a rag doll.

Then Ardyn looks straight at Prompto, eyes boring into his very soul.  
“All the way to the _ground_ that is.”

Ignis and Gladio start shouting again as Noctis is dangled over the edge of the cliff, wings drooping lifelessly.

Prompto’s breath catches in his throat, eyes locked with Ardyn’s.  
He knows what he’s doing. He’s playing right into his hand.

But _no._

_He can’t let this happen._

Without any warning, Prompto feels something inside him take over. It’s like he’s watching someone else as his uninjured shoulder rams into the head of one of the MT’s holding him down.

He’s more machine than human as numbers whirl through his head; seconds till his hand slams into that MT’s jaw, centimeters to that MT’s weak spot, the port located at the top of its back, just below its neck—the same place where Prompto’s is—and the projectile speed of a shard of metal he’s suddenly shoving into the throat of the one holding his leg.

It’s a whirl of sparks and robotic screeches that he barely processes until he’s standing above the torn pieces of jerking metal.

Normally, Prompto would be horrified. He let the monster come out again, and his friend _saw_. But he’s only seeing red when he whips out his gun, and points it directly at Ardyn’s forehead.

And that’s when everything stops, and only the two of them exist in this moment. The silence is deafening compared to the onslaught of chaos that had just occurred. The only sound is the sharp _clicks_ that erupt in his throat and rip through the stark silence, echoing across the clearing.

Prompto knows he’s fucked, however, when the man with a gun pointed at his head is already smiling.

Like he’s already won.

“Let Noctis go.” Prompto says in a voice he doesn’t recognize. 

An ugly expression warps its way onto Ardyn’s face.

“As you wish.”

Prompto watches in slow motion as Noctis is suddenly released from Ardyn’s grip, and disappears past the cliff line.

He’s already running before he can even cry Noct’s name. He doesn’t see Ardyn casually step aside, or hear his friends distant shouts as he throws himself over the edge, and into empty air.

All that matters right now is keeping Noctis, his best friend, his _flock_ , from becoming another dash on the rocks.

Wind rips at his face as he angles himself straight down into a dive. Tears blur his vision and he's inching closer to Noctis’s figure tumbling and flipping through the wind.

_Closer._  
_Closer._

C’mon _faster._

He lunges out with his hand, his hand just barely skimming his pant leg as Noctis is buffeted around by the wind.

The fates must be on his side because suddenly his fingers manage to snag onto Noctis’s jacket.

As soon as Prompto feels the familiar fabric firmly in his grip his wings explode from his back, tearing apart whatever was left of the bindings and jacket the MT had ripped up.

A wave of dizziness washes over him as he’s made very aware of his injured wings by the pain arcing through them. But he forces his wings to stretch as far and flat as they can, scrambling to wrap his arms around Noct’s chest as he nearly slips through his grip from the sudden pain. They’re still falling fast towards the forest below, and it’s all Prompto can do to not send them barreling into the tree tops at top speed.

Leaves scrape along his wings and Prompto tries to maneuver around the massive tree trunks that would mean instant death for both him and his passenger.

Branches start to tear at his face and he can feel bigger holes being torn into his wings as they make their descent.

Prompto just manages to wrap himself around Noctis as much as he can before they go skidding across the dirt, rocks scraping down his arms and face as he desperately holds onto him.

Everything goes white as Noctis tumbles out of his arms.

…

_Pain pain pain. Everything hurts._  
_But no no. It doesn’t matter. He has to. Pain pain._

_Noct._

_He has to._  
_Get to._

A part of his brain thinks he feels his stomach dragging across the ground. 

_But that doesn’t matter._

_Closer._  
_Maybe he should take a nap for a while?_  
_No._  
_Closer._

_Noctis._

It’s only once he feels soft feathers beneath his fingertips, and he’s wrapped his arms and damaged wings around him, does he give in to the darkness trying to drag him under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOOO so I hoped you enjoyed Chapter 3! Again, sorry for it being so late! So a few things to note here:
> 
> 1: Small disclaimer, I've never watched The Walking Dead, so if the zombies in it don't actually eat brains I apologize it was the only zombie show I could think of. 
> 
> 2: WARNING: SMALL SPOILER FOR THE END OF THE GAME IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED IT YET. JUST SKIP TO 3 IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED/SEEN IT YET.  
> So Ardyn has all black wings, except the tips of them are super dark red. My idea is that he used to have all black wings, like all kings of Lucis do, but when he absorbed the Starscourge into his body it sorta tainted them? I was thinking about making them grey, or black with white spots? But I couldn't get the image of the blood red tips poking out from underneath his cloak thing out of my head. 
> 
> 3: As I always say at the end of the chapters, I'm still a beginner writer. I know my writing can be a little sloppy, so if you have any critiques, suggestions, questions, or even just spelling mistakes you've noticed, please feel free to comment below. I won't be offended I promise! :)
> 
> 4: The next chapter I'm hoping will coming out faster than this one did. I was just really lost where to start with this one, but I got it in the end! I'm SOOO excited for the next chapter ya'll are GONNA FLIP ;D;D;D 
> 
> 5: And last but not least Thank you all again so SO much for all the Love and support. I can't say thank you enough. This story would truly not exist without you all. 
> 
> I think that's everything. See ya next time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *emerges from coffin* I'M ALIVVEEEEEEE.   
> Okay really quick before you read heres a little context thing:
> 
> ***IMPORTANT PLEASE READ:***  
> So the way potions work in my story is like, they heal you but they use YOUR own energy to do it. So you can't give someone too many cause it can risk them falling into a coma.   
> I did this because I didn't want potions to be like, immediate fixers.   
> for BNHA fans it essentially works like Recovery Girls quirk.
> 
> Okay now that that's done, I want to thank you all SO SO SO much. Like the constant support I've received is honestly astounding, and I'm so happy to be able to write this for you guys. Thank you all so so much.
> 
> I hope you enjoy Chapter 4!!

They find them as the sun starts coming up. They must have passed the area at least a hundred times, but only once sunlight streaked past the leaves of the trees was Ignis finally able to see evidence of a crash. They landed much farther away than expected of two people who couldn’t fly, one because they were unconscious and the other because they _couldn’t_. That’s what they’d been told anyways.

They knew they probably should have waited until morning, but neither he nor Gladio were willing to or able to sleep and wait.

Especially with the way Ardyn so quickly commanded the MTs to let them go, then disappear without a trace as if he had someplace to be. But only once he had spent a painstakingly long time watching Noct and Prompto fall, Iggy assumed, to their death.

Ardyn had turned to them after, satisfaction practically dripping off his stature.  
“Well wasn’t that _fun?_ I never knew he—oh I’m sorry— _It_ had it in him.” He said, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice.

At the time, the words hardly processed. All he could think about was Noctis, the one he swore to protect, to stand at his side through all things, to love like he was more than just his king, but his brother.

And _Prompto_.

Although he wasn’t sworn to protect the boy like he was to Noctis, he still considered him part of the flock. Iggy had to admit, when he first met the blonde, he wasn’t sure what to think. He mostly saw a troublemaker—he just had that type of grin. But you couldn’t blame him, it was Ignis’ _job_ to be wary when it concerned Noctis.  
But then Iggy saw something change in Noctis, and not in the way he had expected; Noctis smiled easier when Prompto was around. And he smiled in a way that Ignis hadn’t seen since he was a young boy. 

So when he saw that _monster_ take everything he cared about in his hand and drop it over the cliff side, his soul nearly left his body.  
And then Prompto had run after him while Ignis yelled and yelled because _he couldn’t lose him too_.  
Prompto disappearing over the edge of the cliff was the final tug that was needed for his soul to be completely ripped from his body, leaving a deep, gaping, bloody hole inside him.

That's when he had seen red.  
He vaguely remembered yelling and wrestling against his captors, hardly paying attention to the pain flaring up where the machines held him. He didn’t care about the way their metallic hands tore up his skin because half his flock had been taken from him in an instant and _he needed to kill Ardyn._

But then he was suddenly released, and the first thing he did was fling himself at Ardyn, a small part of his brain acknowledging Gladio right up beside him.  
But just as his daggers were about to drive deep into the man's chest, his daggers instead sliced through empty air. He almost flung himself over the edge of the cliff from the momentum if not for Gladio catching his arm.

He had whipped around just as Ardyn’s form disappeared in a blink of an eye, not even a tendril of smoke left behind. 

The MT’s then cleared out as quickly as they had appeared onto huge drop ships, their orders complete.

That’s when the silence descended upon them. 

Silence that should’ve instead been warded away by quips from Noctis, loud but always welcome laughter from Prompto. 

It didn’t take long for the initial shock of what happened to fade and for the panic to set in.

“Gladio,” He said, running over to the edge. “Gladio I don’t- I don’t see-“

“Iggy-“

“We need to find them what if Ardyn finds them first we need to-“

“IGNIS.” Gladio yelled, grabbing Iggy’s shoulders and forcing him to meet his eyes. “I know. I know.”

Ignis could tell he was struggling to keep his composure as well, but he was holding it together. He was a rock to hang on to while raging waters rushed around them, threatening to pull him under.  
It was enough for Ignis to pull himself together, just enough to tape up the cracks.

Just enough.

“C’mon,” Gladio said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. “Let’s go get our boys back.” Then he added quietly, “Before that asshole finds them first.”

With that Gladio had backed up as far as he could go, spread his huge wings out, raced at the cliffs edge at full speed and jumped. But instead of dropping like rocks like Noct and Prompto had, he glided along the air, powerful flaps taking him higher into the sky.

And Ignis had jumped after him, a small spark of hope being the only reason he hadn’t immediately hurtled towards the ground from the weight of his heavy heart. 

~~~~~~

 

For the millionth time that day, Gladio angrily kicked at the bush next to him, sending up a cloud of dirt.  
“I don’t _get it_ Iggy. Why would he _do_ that?! Prompto- he- he can’t _fly!_ ” 

They’d been searching the entire night, blazing a trail through demons and anything that stood in their way, fire in their veins. So it was only expected for the initial shock to die down and for frustration to set in.

“Well, Prompto’s always been one to throw himself at fruitless endeavors”

“But you’d think he’d have enough sense not to hurl himself off a cliff. Now we’ve got _two_ assholes to look for.”

“Well when we find them you have my full consent to make them do laps around the beach for the worry they’ve put us through.”

Gladio crosses his arms but doesn’t say much more. 

Iggy knew Gladio wasn’t actually mad at them. He was just trying to distract himself from the thing that was hanging over them, threatening to crush them.

The fact that they might be—most logically are—gone.

_Dead._

For not the first time that night, Iggy had to stop and take a moment to compose himself. To reignite that spark inside him that told him that they were _fine_. That, by some miracle, they had survived the fall.

The spark had flared a bit when they first searched the area directly below the cliff. Where they should’ve landed.  
If they hadn’t fallen straight down, that meant they may have fallen at an angle. However, the question of _how_ plagued his mind. Maybe Noctis woke up and flew the two of them to safety? Or possibly Prompto, despite whatever disfiguration he had, could glide? Or slow their descent at least a small bit?

So he grasped onto that hope. Denied the idea that they would be anything short of successful and push forward. Besides, it was all he could do.

Still, he couldn’t get his mind off of that moment on the cliffs. Where he’d seen Prompto take down a group of MT’s with more skill than his training with Gladio permitted.   
He couldn’t stop analyzing the moment Prompto went rigid, and seconds earlier where the robots had stood, wires and metal were left in their place. It had all happened so fast that Ignis was almost convinced that they merely combusted on the spot.   
All the while it was replaying in his mind, Ardyn’s words echoed in the background.  
_I never knew he—oh I’m sorry—It had it in him._

“How’s your head?” Gladio says suddenly. Again, a distraction, but Ignis welcomed it with open arms.

“No longer bleeding thankfully, and just a minor headache.”

After the first few hours of searching, the pain from his throbbing head began to show on his usually impassive face and Gladio made him stop and use a potion.  
Iggy denied it at first, insisting that they save as many as they could for Noct and Prompto when they found them, but Gladio wouldn’t let him continue searching unless he used it.

“You’re our brains here,” Gladio had said, helping Iggy wipe away at the dried blood on his forehead. “Let’s uh, let’s not lose our heads or something like that, right?”

Gladio using his familiar phrase was enough to get him to let out a snort, and guiltily take the potion.

The sun started coming up, and along with it the daemons retreated into whatever cave they crawled out of.  
From there they were able to continue their search much more effectively, backtrack, spot the smaller details.

Ignis almost missed the broken tree branches, but the moment something amiss caught his eye the whole scene became obvious.  
Perfectly healthy leaves littered the ground, meaning they were most likely ripped off. The sun streaked through dangling branches, and lit up some that had fallen to the ground.

“Gladio.”

Gladio looked back surprised, not even realizing that Iggy had stopped walking, “Yeah what’s up?”  
Iggy had already grabbed his arm and pulled him close, wordlessly pointing up at the branches.

Gladio’s face suddenly turned hard, and Ignis recognized his expression. It was the one he wore whenever they were about to go fight a particularly large monster, pure determination filling every crack.

“There’s more this way,” Iggy says, pointing along the treetops where more evidence of damage popped up. “Let’s see where it leads.” 

Iggy has to keep himself from breaking into a sprint as they follow the trail, anxiousness pulsing through him with each snapped branch or fallen leaf spotted.

The farther they go the more the unspoken question becomes clear: _How did they go so far?_  
They had to have glided in, there was no way they could have made it this far into the forest doing so.

His subconscious subtly shifts from treating heavy impact injuries he’d been going over all night to treating friction burns and broken bones.

The first thing he sees are the long trenches in the soil, dirt tossed everywhere as if a comet had crash landed.

Then he sees the blood.

Streaks of it, like someone had killed a deer and then proceeded to drag their game along the ground.  
Somehow it’s more terrifying than being face to face with an MT. 

His eyes follow the trail and fall on a dark motionless shape, hidden in the shade of a looming oak tree. He would have missed it if there hadn’t been a trail leading up to it.  
The only thing he can see somewhat clearly is a wisp of blond hair, and that’s all it takes to get him running.

Relief and panic seize him all at once and all he can think about is that they _found them and just please gods please be okay._

He’s only a few steps away when he’s suddenly yanked back, and he can’t help the small cry of desperation that escapes his throat because _his flock is right there please please._

“Iggy stop!” Gladio’s voice echoing through the clearing. “It’s an MT!”

He barely registers Gladio’s protective hand on his chest, sword already in his other, but it’s enough to get him to pause, and then take a closer look at the limp shape. 

He can see them clearly now. Long black wings draped around a small bundle mostly hidden from view. They wrap all the way around, the sharp tips hanging limply along the owners back, just barely obscuring the place where they connected to the shoulder blades.  
They’re dark as ink in the shade, and sharp, with no soft feathers to round out the edges.  
They’re terrifying, but in a way, beautiful.

Ignis finds himself stepping towards those wings because he can see glimpses of what they’re attached to. A heel of boot peeking out of the protective blanket of wings, an all too familiar tuft of bright blond hair.

He softly hushes Gladio’s protests as he pulls away, his heart racing in his chest.

When he crouches down next to the figure, the damage becomes clear.  
Dark red blood that wasn’t easily seen against the black of the wings becomes all too apparent, jagged holes shining like beacons.  
Worse was the blood that soaked through where the wings connected to the shoulder blades, where he could see long gashes.

He delicately takes a wing with one hand, immediately surprised at its softness despite its sharpness, and starts carefully _oh so carefully_ peeling it back.

Ignis already knows what he’ll find. He knows who these wings are connected to.  
Except it just _doesn’t make any sense.  
It can’t be  
it doesn’t  
he would’ve known   
it’s not possible. _

Except, it also explains so many things.

So when he finally unwraps the package, and finds half his flock, one curled tightly around the other, arm wrapped around the others head as if to shield him, he doesn’t find himself crying out in alarm.

Instead he feels something else take over. He finds himself checking injuries, which is much harder than expected because there’s _blood so much blood._ He carefully untangles the two and lays them out next to each other. They’re limp as he does so and he’s instantly searching for a pulse.  
He finds it on Noctis, then thanks the gods when he finds it on Prompto as well.  
Just unconscious then, but still in no less danger.

“Gladio I need you to retrieve the medical kit and healing potions from my bag.” He says, surprising himself with how calm his voice sounded.

Gladio takes a moment to respond, “Those are-“

“I know. I know what they are.” Ignis says.

“But that means- The whole time he-?”

“Believe me I’m as perplexed as you are, but why don’t we ask him ourselves after we’ve stabilized them and gotten them to safety,” He says, looking up briefly to meet Gladio’s eyes. “Now the med kit please.”

Iggy thinks Gladio’s about to continue debating, but then he feels the shape of the med kit and a health potion placed into his hands.  
“I’ve got Noctis, you do Prompto. He looks worse off.” Gladio says, kneeling down beside Noctis’ unconscious form.

Ignis sighs a breath of relief, then sets to work.

~ ~

Once they were able to patch up Noctis and Prompto enough to make sure they weren’t in any immediate danger, they were able to bring them to a nearby haven to treat their wounds more extensively.

After Gladio was done setting up the fire, he slumped down exhausted next to Ignis as he laid out some medical supplies.

Although Gladio doesn’t say anything, Ignis could tell the king’s shield was stressed. Stressed was probably even an understatement.  
His huge wings were hiked up, making him look even bigger than he already was, as if he was trying to scare away a monster that wasn’t there. They twitched at every small sound, even within the safety of the Haven.

They all had their tells. Wings always had a way of revealing how someone was really feeling, which was why it was important to bind them during important meetings or events.  
Ignis had always took pride in his ability to read other people’s wings, it was part of his job after all. To Ignis, Noct’s tell had always been obvious, even though he was learning to hide it better. His wings would be in constant motion, as if they couldn’t find a comfortable position. They’d stretch then fold up then flap then twitch then stretch again in a never ending cycle.   
Ignis knew that he himself had one also. He knew his wings froze altogether, like a deer in a headlight, if he was ever in a less than desirable situation,  
Prompto’s tell had been hard to pin down when he had first met him since his wings were always bound. But you didn’t need to have wings to have a tell, it was just harder to spot. Whenever Prompto was suddenly startled, which Ignis had noticed was very easily, his throat would ever so slightly tighten, but he wouldn’t make a sound. As if he wanted to make a noise or say something but was holding it down.  
Iggy had never questioned it, but now, he had a lot of questions.

Gladio suddenly breaks the silence, “So how’re they doing.”

Ignis snaps back to what he’d been doing, not realizing he’d gotten lost in thought.  
“Better now that they’ve gotten a few health potions in them. Noctis fared remarkably well despite being dropped off a cliff,” he says, unable to keep a hint of anger out of his tone. “A mild concussion, which definitely won’t be helping his headaches. Some friction burns and bruising around his chest area and on his arms—seems he had a bit of a rough landing—and a dislocated wing which you took care of earlier. He’ll be sore for a few days, but he’ll survive. I’ll change out some of his bandages in an hour to see how he’s healing. From what I can tell, I don’t see why he wouldn’t wake up soon aside from exhaustion.”

Gladio nods, knowing most of the rundown having already treated most of Noct’s more basic wounds.

“And... Prompto?” Gladio asks after a moment.

Ignis sighs, sending only a small glance down at the boy as he managed to thread a needle, “Less promising. We found them with Prompto wrapped around Noctis. I think it’s safe to assume he tried to take a brunt of the damage.”

Gladio doesn’t say anything, so Ignis continues, “He has some scrapes and bruising, but what I’m most concerned about is the injuries to his uh... wing area. Three gashes down his back from an MT, it tore his jacket to shreds and soaked it through. There are some holes in his wings, which I’ve already cleaned out.”

Ignis sterilizes the needle as he talks, “The uh... wing membrane is similar to skin, so I’m going to stitch up the tears. Then from there we’ll just have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they’re healing properly.”

He takes a deep breath once he’s done with his rant. He wasn’t even sure if Gladio was listening, sometimes it just helped to talk about the purely technical side of things. It helped to take his mind off the severity of the situation.

Silence descends upon the camp once more as he begins stitching up Prompto’s wings. It’s a delicate process, but the skin of the wing is flexible which makes it easier.  
Once he’s managed to patch up the larger holes, and hoping that the smaller ones will heal on their own, he checks the bandages covering the gashes down his back.

Luckily, the MT had just barely missed the square of metal implanted in Prompto’s pale skin, just below the nape of his neck.  
If it had damaged that, Ignis wouldn’t have known what to do.

They had to take off Prompto’s shirt to assess the damage, but once they did, Ignis almost wished they hadn’t.  
Because now he knew why Prompto still flinched whenever someone placed a hand on his shoulder. Why he covered his ears in loud crowds. Why he muttered in his sleep begging for it all to stop.  
It was in the cold metal melded squares melded into his skin. The scars across his body that, while obviously old, were still a dark angry red.

And just like the scars, Ignis hadn’t been able to see anything but red since.

“Gladio, just one thing.” Ignis says when Gladio makes a move to start getting up.

“What’s up Iggs?”

“If we ever run into the people that decided it would be a good idea to graft metal into someone’s skin, don’t try to stop me when I skewer them with my lance and use them as ingredients in my next meal.”

Gladio grins, but his eyes are only filled with fire.  
“I’ll bring the barbecue sauce.”

~ ~

Noct wakes up early the next day, and Gladio can’t help but acknowledge the irony of it.

Iggy had started breakfast, which left him to watch over the two bird brains.

Well, one bird brain.  
He needed a new nickname for the other one.

Prompto twitched as if on cue, and Gladio sighed and leaned back. He still wasn’t sure what to think about the whole... wing thing.

The “Prince’s Shield” part of him yelled that this was an MT. He could be a spy of Niflheim, sent to kill the prince in his sleep. Or a sleeper agent, not even aware that he was made to one day betray Noctis.

But then the other part of him, the “Flocks Protector,” only saw Prompto. Saw the way his eyes scrunched in his sleep, or the way his wings pushed up against his jacket when he was startled.  
Or when he managed to make everyone laugh, and pride would shine in his eyes.  
Or when his tongue stuck out when he was lining up a shot.  
It was all so human that Gladio couldn’t believe anyone that bright and full of life could be anything like those robotic nightmares.

He didn’t know what it all meant, but until they learned more, as far as Gladio was concerned, Prompto was still part of his flock.  
And that’s all that mattered.

A quiet mumble interrupts his train of thought and he spots Noctis moving around slightly.

“Noct?” Gladio says, getting up from his chair and bending down next to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You with me?”

Noct’s eyes flutter open, then immediately shut again against the harsh sunlight, followed by a groan.

“Mornin’ princess. How’re you holdi-“

Noct lurches forward, and it’s only from years of training that Gladio has the reflexis to grab both his shoulders before he has the chance to fully sit up.

“Whoa hey relax-“

“Where’s-“ Noct’s eyes are blown wide, frantically looking around. Even though he’s no longer fighting against Gladio, his wings are still twitching, as if he wants to take flight. “I-I was falling and the cliffside and- and the MTs and _Ardyn oh god is everyone-_ ”

“Noct look at me.” Gladio says, taking Noct’s chin in his hands and gently steering it towards himself. He waits until Noct’s eyes meet his before continuing, “You’re at camp. We were up on the mountain looking for a royal arm, we were ambushed by Ardyn. He knocked you unconscious and tried to drop you off the side of the cliff, but we caught you,” Gladio runs a hand through Noct’s puffed feathers, which is enough to get them to shrink back down to their normal size. “You’re good, you’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

Noctis releases a shaky breath, eyes sliding closed. Gladio can tell he’s still a bit disoriented, but most of the initial panic had dissipated.

 

Iggy then swoops in with a bowl in his hand, ever prepared, and sets it aside as he attempts to help Noct sit up. Noctis lightly bats him away and props himself up, nudging aside Prompto’s blanket covered form as he does so. Gladio’s heart skips a beat when he notices the tips of Prompto’s wings poking out from underneath the blanket. They’d been planning to tell Noctis about them later, maybe break the news slowly. But for right now, Gladio just prayed he wouldn’t notice.

“I’m glad you’re awake, and at such an early hour,” Ignis says with a hint of amusement, earning a gruff laugh from Gladio, and hands Noctis the bowl of soup he’d set aside. “How’re you feeling?”

Noctis mumbles a small thanks and eats a spoonful. “Drained. A bit of a headache, but what else is new,” Noct says with a shrug. “What about you guys?”

“We’re all fine, nothing a few potions couldn’t take care of,” Ignis replies swiftly, only hesitating briefly before continuing. “Prompto has a few stitches, he got a little cut up from an MT, but he should be waking soon enough.”

Noctis’s eyes grow concerned at that, and immediately reaches to lift up the blanket that Prompto was hidden under, but Gladio’s wing instinctively spreads out to block him from view. Noctis withdraws his hand and looks up at him surprised, confusion lighting up his features.

“It’s best to just let him sleep. We had to give him a few potions so he’s probably exhausted.” Gladio explains, feigning a calm his racing heart could barely manage. Noctis nods, seeming to accept the excuse, and returns to his soup, but not without sending a suspicious glance his way first. 

Silence descends over the camp except for a few clinks from Noctis’ bowl. It’s actually somewhat peaceful, and Gladio thinks he may actually be able to relax for the first time in hours before Noctis suddenly pipes up.   
“Gladio said I was dropped off the edge of a fucking cliff?”

Iggy gives Gladio a strained look, to which Gladio raises his hands in defense, “He was gonna find out anyways.”

“Yes but you couldn’t of said it a bit more... eloquently?”

“How the hell do you sugar coat that? After spending all night looking for him I don’t think even you’d be able to.”

“Even after the night we’ve had I can come up with plenty of other ways-“

“Whoa whoa wait,” Noctis interrupts, expression shifting from amusement to confusion, eyes narrowing at the two of them. “You guys spent the night looking for me? I thought one of you caught me.”  
Gladio freezes mid-banter, and shoots a desperate glance at Ignis, who looks just as caught off guard as he was.

“Uh, we did.” Gladio says when the silence stretches a little too long.

“Then why’d you guys have to look for me?” Noctis asks with an edge in his voice. 

Ignis seems to finally break from his stupor, “We dropped you.” He says, but Gladio can see that even he knows it’s flimsy. 

“Alright then. Who caught me?”

“We both did.” Ignis states easily. 

Noctis stares at them long and hard before speaking, as if challenging them to lie to him.   
“Mmm nope. You and I both know just one of you guys can hold me up in the air. But I’ll humor you, let's say, if both of you caught me, and then happened to drop me, you guys would’ve seen where I landed. It wouldn’t of taken you guys long to find me—especially not all night. So, I call bullshit.”

He says it with such a tone of effortless finality that even Gladio lets out an impressed whistle, “Damn Iggy, he sounded like you for a second.”

Ignis sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, not even commenting on Noct’s language.

A shit eating grin spreads across Noctis’ face and he pats Iggy’s shoulder good naturedly, “Aw don’t feel so bad Ig’s. I learned from the best.”

Iggy gives him a weary look, “At least I can take comfort in the fact that you actually paid attention to some of my lessons.” 

Noctis leans back and sets his now empty bowl aside, “So, stop the lying. What actually happened?”

Gladio looks meet Ignis’ eyes. He isn’t sure what he’s looking for, maybe confirmation, but Ignis seems to understand and gives him a small nod. He then looks down to Prompto, who's still mostly hidden by the blanket and Gladio’s wings. He wished he could get a confirmation from him also.

Gladio rubs at the back of his neck and hesitates before speaking, “Prompto he... Prompto caught you”

Noctis’ eyes instantly jump to Prompto’s sleeping form, “I said no more lying.” He says despite the startled expression on his face. 

“Noct, I kinda wish I was.” 

He takes in Gladio’s serious tone, then looks to Iggy for confirmation, who adjusts his glasses before giving a small nod. 

“What? Wait is he okay? What happened-”

Noctis goes to stand up but Gladio holds him down. Noctis starts to struggle harder against him,  
“Gladio I swear to gods he’s my best friend I have to make sure he’s-!” 

“Just wait two seconds and let us explain-”

Noctis doesn’t let him finish and Gladio’s suddenly holding empty air as he warps past him. Noctis stumbles as he comes out of his warp, still weighed down by exhaustion, but doesn’t stop moving. 

Before Gladio can stop him, Noctis rips off the blanket, his wings splayed high in worry.  
And Prompto’s own wings are there for the world to see. Dark against the glimmering symbols of the haven. Gladio can see every detail now in the light of the rising sun.   
In the parts of the wing where the membrane connecting the finger like bones is thinner, he can see dark, delicate veins, almost like a leaf from a tree. Prompto curls up tighter against the sudden cold, and as he does so the wings stretch slightly, with more dexterity than his own wings could ever accomplish. Some of the stitches become more clear, as well as some scars from past holes that had healed on their own.   
Gladio couldn’t help but wonder where they came from.  
Despite the bones holding the wings together being brittle in some places, no doubt from years of binding them, Gladio sensed a strength in them.

He took it in all in the span of a second. And as Noctis’ eyes land on the wings, he instinctively summons his sword, subconsciously slipping into a fighting stance. But as soon as he sees who’s attached to the wings, the sword is gone as quickly as it had appeared in a glimmer of shimmering crystal. He stays frozen like that as the shards fade, taking in all of Prompto.   
“What the hell? Did you guys know?”

“No, we found out yesterday.”

“But he said he couldn’t-” he runs a hand through his hair, taking a small disbelieving step back, “why didn’t he say-“

His weakness seems to suddenly catch up with him, stumbling a bit and face paling like he’s about to pass out.  
Ignis thankfully sees it also and is immediately at his side, making him sit down, “Are you alright?”

Noctis doesn’t answer. His eyes drift over his best friend’s form, breath stuttering as they lock on the imbedded metal grafted on his pale skin.  
“Why didn’t he _tell_ me? Why didn’t he tell _us?_ ” He asks weakly. 

Gladio sighs, then sits down heavily next to them, in front of Prompto’s sleeping form.  
“We dunno...” He runs a hand through Noct’s feathers before saying quieter,  
“I just... don’t know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything is static.

Reality fades in and out, so close but then just as it’s about to come into focus it’s swallowed up by the white noise, like a restless cloud.

Sometimes, when the static fades and color pushes in, he reaches out. But every time he gets close, pain grabs him with an iron grip and tries to drag Prompto towards it.

Prompto fights, breaks free, then lets himself be once again smothered by the never ending white.

Sometimes he has visitors in the white, like Ignis running a hand through his hair. Or Gladio wrapping his giant wings around him and blocking out the eternal static, for just a little while.  
One time, Noctis showed up and grabbed his hands. Prompto couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he kept desperately asking something over and over, tears threatening to well over his face.  
He seemed frustrated, and sad.

Prompto wished he knew why.

There were some other times, where he’d have wings.  
Normal wings. Feathers and all.  
Chocobo yellow, something Noct would endlessly make fun of him for, but Prompto couldn’t bring himself to care. They were soft. And bright. And warm.

Then, every time, they would molt.

The brilliant feathers would fall away, one by one at first, then in clumps, revealing razor-edged bones and black leather underneath.  
They were such a sharp contrast to the fluffy chocobo wings that it left Prompto reeling, staring in horror as they stretched out because surely they weren’t that pointed. Surely they weren’t that dark that deadly.  
But they wouldn’t fall away like the chocobo wings had. The darkness only grew, the scourge activating in his veins and turning his blood to oil.  
His heart is torn from his chest and replaced with wires and nuts and bolts.  
Armor closes around him just as the white of the void around him becomes too bright and burns his skin. The mask is the final piece that closes him off from the rest of the world, and all he can do is curl up in the fallen feathers, wishing he could feel their softness one last time through the metal encasing him.

He hates it when that happens. 

This time though it’s different. This time he’s falling.  
The static fades as he falls, and suddenly pain yanks him up from his descent.

And his eyes open, then quickly close with a groan against the harsh light.

“Prompto?”

His eyes flutter again and this time he’s able to keep them open, albeit squinting against the light up at the blurry form sitting down next to him.

Noctis’ form slowly takes shape, “Hey man you with me?”

Prompto tries to respond, but finds his mouth full of cotton. Noctis seems to understand immediately though, and starts talking to someone behind him.

Prompto was just starting to fade back out again when a water bottle is brought to his lips. He reaches up and tips it, drinking as much as he can before coughs start to rattle through his lungs. The waters taken away and he manages to mutter a small thank you in between coughs.

“Yeah no sweat.” Noctis says, giving him a small pat on the shoulder.

When Prompto’s coughing fit is over, he sees Ignis standing behind Noct holding the water.  
“Ah finally awake. How are you feeling?” Ignis asks, bending down to feel his forehead. “Shaky? Dizzy? Nauseous?”

Prompto shakes his head, “I’m fine. Just kinda sore.” He says. He tries to sit up a bit, but he’s way too exhausted to, so he just stays where he is. “How long was I out?”

Gladio pipes up from the seat next to him that Prompto hadn’t even noticed, book in hand, “A whole two days longer than the prince. We were considering starting to call _you_ you your majesty.”

Noctis smiles and claps him gently on the shoulder, “Ah don’t feel too bad, potions’ll do that to you.”

Prompto laughs a bit, then winces when the movement jostles a still healing injury. He glances around, the fog surrounding his brain slowly starting to clear up, but still a little thick in some places.  
“What... what happened?” He asks.

Noctis glances away—towards Gladio and Ignis—then back down. “What do you remember?”

Prompto tries to block out the way the atmosphere had suddenly shifted to something stiffer as he sifts through the fog.

“We were... there were zombies? No no wait the Royal arm. That guy told us about there being a royal arm. Um...” Prompto’s face twists a bit as he tries to pick apart the memories slowly surging back.  
“We didn’t find it... wait why didn’t we-“

Prompto blinks.

_Mts._  
Falling.  
Cliff.  
Falling.  
Ardyn. Falling. Ardyn. 

_Noctis. Falling._

_Wings._

The others must see the moment it all comes back because they’re asking him something. But that can wait because now the fog surrounding his brain is a hurricane and he’s finally processing everything like the fact he’s in camp and the pain in his arm from laying on his side and the pain in his back.  
And his back.

And.  
His wings.  
That he can _move._

_They’re bound up I shouldn’t be able to-_

His eyes shoot up to meet Noctis’ and Prompto can immediately tell that _he knows._

Panic floods his system like a tidal wave and all he can hear is his own constricted breaths as blood pulses in his skull.

He registers himself moving, and he realizes it’s because his own feet are suddenly underneath him.  
His previous exhaustion is forgotten and all that matters is getting away. He needs to run.

_Run._

He gets past Noctis, whose yelling something, grasping for his hand but Prompto can’t hear.  
He throws himself to the side as Ignis comes into his field of vision, just barely managing to stumble past him in time. He sees the forest and all he has to do is get there and-

Something stops him in his tracks like a freight train and it sucks all the air out of him. He struggles against whatever’s holding him, hot pain bolting through his wings as they flap and fight with him.

_No no please. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry._

_I’m so sorry._

The thing holding him doesn’t let go, despite his pleas, and he realizes it’s Gladio whose holding him.

_I’m sorry please I’m so so sorry._

“Shh shh it’s okay it’s okay...”

Gladio’s voice is the first thing to break through the static, and suddenly his senses start to return.

“That’s it just breath just breath.”

Exhaustion drapes over him like a weighted blanket and he feels himself sink into Gladio, suddenly becoming aware of the wetness drenching his face. He hears himself clicking in between sobs and it’s horrible and he can’t stop it he needs to stop it but he can’t and it must be horrible to hear but he _can’t-_

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry._

“Hey hey stop apologizing it’s okay Prompto it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He doesn’t know how long he lets himself be held by Gladio for, but at some point there’s long thin fingers threading through his hair and another hand rubbing small circles near his shoulder.  
His sobs eventually calm down, and all he’s left with is exhaustion and the occasional burst of clicks that sound from his throat.

Gladio helps him sit down, and raises his wings like a shield. He pulls prompto under his arm, with prompto’s back being blocked by his raised wings.  
Prompto wasn’t sure if Gladio realized how much he appreciated the gesture. Gladio knew from years of training together that he always fought with his back to the wall, and out in the wild, there weren’t many walls to use as cover. Especially with the way Prompto couldn’t seem to fold his wings up right at the moment, he wanted all the cover he could get.

Ignis and Noctis closed off the little half circle Gladio was making with his wings, allowing Prompto time to curl up beside Gladio and just breath.

Eventually the tears stop streaming and the clicks stop forcing their way into his throat and he lets himself have a few more minutes. Just a few before he knows what needs to happen. What’s going to happen.  
His voice doesn’t sound like his own when he breaks the silence.  
“I-I’m sure-“ he clears his throat, then tries again. “I’m sure you guys uh... have some questions...”

It’s silent for a moment, then Ignis speaks up, “If you need more time to calm down, we understand-“

Prompto shakes his head, “No it’s fine. You guys deserve to know.” He says, not meeting their eyes.

“Why not just start from the beginning?” Ignis proposes.

Prompto closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in preparation, “Yeah... Yeah okay.”

And so he tells them. He tells them how, when he was born, if you could even call it that, he wasn’t given the name Prompto. Instead he got a needle to the wrist and a model number, NH-10987. A gun was put in his hands and he was told to shoot the targets. If he missed, he would be no longer be of use to Niflheim.  
So he just made sure he never missed.

Every week he’d be injected with this black liquid. When he was old enough for his wings to start coming in, he’d be injected everyday. It would burn, but if he complained about it, he would no longer be of use. So he wouldn’t complain, and when sharp bones started piercing through his back, he didn’t even consider the fact that it was supposed to be any different.

With some prompting from Ignis, he tells them about about how they started robotic enhancements two years before he was saved. They never finished, but he didn’t get out without a few replacements, which explained the metal components grafted into his skin.   
He was never put under for the surgeries, but he’d usually pass out from the pain anyways.

When he was around the age of 10—he’d never kept track of his birthday so he can only guess—he was taken in the middle of the night. Later he found out he was rescued by a Lucian spy, but at the time he viewed it as being kidnaped. It was only after a year in Lucis with some random foster parents who were never home did he realize what the empire had done to him.  
What they had taken.

“And then, I met Noct...” Prompto says, glancing up. “And-and your wings, kinda looked like mine—well except yours had feathers—but they were close. The closest I’d ever seen and... I just...” He runs shaky hands through his hair, “I just, wanted a friend. Then I got three, and It was the happiest I’d ever been,”

“I really... really didn’t want to mess it up. So I never said anything. I knew it was bad to bind them up everyday but you guys were my world- are my world. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He brings his knees up and rests his chin on top of them, “And that’s... kinda that. I-if you guys don’t uh... want me around anymore? T-that’s fine I can- I can go-“

“Actually I’ve got a question,” Noctis says casually, but there’s something hard in his voice. “What the fuck?”

Prompto’s eyes shoot up, cold fear seeping into his veins, “uh... huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell us? We’re you’re... you’re flock. You’re my _best friend_ what, did you think we were gonna toss you out on the streets if you told us?” Noctis says.

Prompto bristles, feeling his wings twitch in agitation, “This isn’t exactly something I could tell people growing up in Lucis. I would’ve been exiled- no I would’ve been killed on the spot.”

“We would’ve-“

“Would’ve what? How could I have known? We kill those- those MTs everyday. I’ve seen first hand what happens when MTs show up. I’ve seen the look on your face a-and I’ve never wanted _you_ to look at me like that.”

Gladio must sense him getting worked up because his wings hike up a bit higher and his arm around him tightens slightly.

“I never wanted you guys to hate me. Or be as scared of me as I am of myself.” He says, trying to get his wings to stop flicking and twitching in distress. “All I ever wanted was to be part of the flock, and I couldn’t see that happening if my wings were part of the picture. So it was easier to hide them, and pretend I was something I wasn’t.”

“And what were you pretending to be exactly?” Ignis asks. 

Prompto tries to curl up tighter, “One of you guys.” 

It’s silent for a moment. Each of them taking in the new information, and processing.   
Noctis is the first to respond. 

“S’cuse me for a sec. Since when have you not been one of us?” 

Prompto squints confused at him, “Huh?”

“Yeah as far as I can tell,” Gladio interjects. “You’re kinda like one of those hairless cats?” 

Prompto blinks, then looks up at Gladio. He sees Noctis facepalm in the corner of his vision. 

Gladio quickly continues, “No no like, okay hear me out. So a hairless cat- wait is it furless or hairless?”

“Its hairless Gladio.” Ignis answers dejectedly. 

“Right so hairless cats. Sure, they might not be as soft and shit as a normal cat, but its still a cat. And if you have a hairless cat, its still _your_ cat. So even if people say, ‘Man, that’s a weird looking cat’, you still love them. ‘Cause it’s _your_ cat.” 

All Prompto can do is stare at Gladio as he rambles. 

“So what I’m _trying_ to say is, you’re one of us. Sure you may not have feathers and stuff, but you’ll always be part of our flock.” 

After five seconds of dead silence, Prompto is the first to crack.   
It starts off with a snort, and that’s all it takes for the four of them to break down into laughter. Prompto isn’t sure if it’s from stress, or pure delirium, but they laugh until tears are streaming down his face, and even Iggy, who's usually the most composed of the group, is holding his stomach. 

“Seriously though,” Noctis says after catching his breath, “It doesn’t matter where you’re from. Nothing is going to change the fact that you’re here to stay.” 

“Unless you’d rather not be.” Ignis says, giving Prompto’s hair a small ruffle as he stands up and walks over to check the dinner he left cooking. 

Prompto wipes some tears off his face, and looks around at his friends, his family, and his flock.   
“Thanks guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY well I hope you guys liked it? I've been really worried about this one so I hope it's good! It's got a aloottt of dialogue so I hope it's not too much!   
> I'VE GOT ALOT OF IMPORTANT STUFF SO BE PREPARED:
> 
> 1: okay first things first, I want to thank Monado for this AMAZING FANART SHE DREW FOR THIS FIC???? LIKE OH MY GOD I LIKE CRIED WHEN I SAW IT?? ITS LEGIT SO PRETTY THANK YOU SO MUCH  
> https://78.media.tumblr.com/cbe7ef300682d0b611a89de4670ee7d8/tumblr_ov1vtzARGp1vievtso5_r1_1280.png
> 
> 2: In case you missed it at the beginning of the fic, the way I see potions working is they heal you but they use YOUR own energy to do it. So you can't give someone too many cause it can risk them falling into a coma. This is why Prompto woke up later than Noctis, and also why they were both so exhausted and disoriented upon waking up. It also means that not ALL of their wounds may be healed. I did this because I didn't want potions to be like, immediate fixers, and also cause it fixes plot holes- COUGH.
> 
> 3: Prompto's wings resemble a Brazilian Free Tailed bat and p much THEYRE FAST BOIS 
> 
> 4: I tried to like, sorta resemble the scene where Prompto tells the team he's an MT but like, not directly copy it. Also I know Noctis reacted a bit more strongly here than in the game but I did that because Prompto hiding this sorta has really big health repercussions, and so Noctis is more so worried than angry at Prompto. 
> 
> 5: Gladio grabbed everyone's shoulders at least once in this chapter. Also fun fact if a bat gets a hole in their wing they actually heal better on their own than if its given stitches. buT SHHHHH Ignis has never worked with bat wings before so it's okay. 
> 
> 6: I know I left some stuff still not taken care of, but don't worry that's coming up in the next chapter!! I'm also gonna put alot more focus on like, the wings next chapter? I feel like I havent been doing that enough.   
> ALSO If you guys have any suggestions for the next chapter or anything you guys wanna see PLEASE let me know! I don't have much of a plan for the next one so anything you guys wanna see would be appreciated!
> 
> 7: I'd like to apologize for this chapter taking SO long. This is the longest chapter I've EVER written, so the editing process kinda killed me XD But it was a good learning experience for next time! 
> 
> 8: Imma legit just copy and paste this cause I say it at the end of each chapter:   
> I'm still a beginner writer. I know my writing can be a little sloppy, so if you have any critiques, suggestions, questions, or even just spelling mistakes you've noticed, please feel free to comment below. I won't be offended I promise! :) 
> 
> 9: And finally, Thank you all so SO much. Your guys' support got me through so much writers block, and the horrible editing process. I can't say how much I appreciate you guys allowing this fic to become a reality for me, I honestly wouldn't be able to do it without you all. I Love writing this fic and I'm so happy I've been able to share it with all of you :)
> 
> See you guys next time!


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